


Harry's Journal

by Sev1970 (mk_malfoy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diary/Journal, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-03
Updated: 2007-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Sev1970
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2007 I began keeping a journal as Harry Potter.  These are the entries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry's Journal

**Title** : Harry’s Journal  
 **Author** : MK Malfoy  
 **Summary** : In 2007 I began keeping a journal as Harry Potter. These are the entries.  
 **A/N** : I have made no edits. To be honest, I haven't read over any of these as I've copied them, so I hope they aren't riddled with errors.

 

03 April 2007

Dear anyone who cares,

Twenty-six -- that's young…but seventeen is younger. I was seventeen when I killed Voldemort, and I felt old. Funny that. Time has a way of distorting reality. Seventeen is young -- far too young to kill someone. I felt old. I was young. I am young.

When he was dead; when the Death-Eaters were no longer a threat; when Hogwarts reopened, there was no need for a boy turned man who had paid his dues for seven years. No one wanted to remember why I had been so important months earlier.

So I did the only thing I could...I left and I left and I left. I wanted to find where I belonged, but no one wanted me. Okay, that is not fair -- no one knew me and I didn't exactly encourage anyone to talk to me before I moved on to my next hopeful home. But still, they all stared. I don't know why, but they did. I heard them everywhere I went -- felt their eyes on me, heard the whispers, saw the finger-pointing. Yes, I know I looked different, but why did they have to stare? Were they not different in any way? Did it make them feel better to gawk at me?

When I was younger, my thoughts were those of a child. I was ignorant and I was impatient. What I said then was true for then -- it is not true for now. Then I was quick to judge. Now other people judge me -- I don't like that. Judging when you are eleven can be forgiven. Judging when you are an adult should not be. Too bad other people do not know what I know; haven't seen what I've seen.

Wondering around aimlessly like a lost soul for the rest of my life was and is not an option -- I was home at Hogwarts. I want another home, somewhere where I feel wanted and needed. I've gone everywhere to find my home only to find that home no longer has any meaning.

I ended up here. I miss home; I miss Hogwarts; I miss my friends; I even miss Snape. They made me feel needed, even if it was with an ugly sneer and a derogatorily intended remark.

What does one do when they can't do anything? Is there a market for Dark Lord killers? Actually, there is, and thank you very much, but no -- one is enough for me. So that brings me back to this -- I know how to kill; I can teach Defense Against the Dark Arts; I can break rules, although not very well, because if I recall correctly, I never got away with anything…not really; I can recite every healing potion known to wizard-kind; and oh yes, I can fly on a broomstick like you wouldn't believe, and if you need someone to catch something, I'm your wizard.

Those abilities were impressive and in demand nine years ago, not so much so today. So I sit here in this large and empty house and sigh, wondering what in the hell I'm going do for the rest of my life.

Fame -- I hated it and wished for a quiet life where no one knew me -- yeah, well, I got my wish. It isn't all I thought it would be, just as fame wasn't all my friends thought it was. I had never asked for it, any of it. It's lonely at the top -- was I at the top? Everyone else seemed to think I was. Whatever. It's lonely down here, as well. I have always been lonely, but when you find what your heart has always yearned for and then it is taken away…it's lonely.

There was a little old lady in the park today. She must have been in her nineties. I wonder what her life has been like? Has she been happy? I have almost seventy years before I am her age. What will I do for seventy years? Something tells me it won't be better than what happened for seven years.

Well, I should go and apply for some more jobs. It seems they don't take Galleons here. I am richer than any of these people around me, yet my money means nothing to them. But I shouldn't complain. I am alive. And I can see. And I can walk. And I can hear. I just can't feel alive, and I can't see or hear what I want to, and my feet can't lead me to where I want to go….

Love, Harry

 

04 April 2007

So, my first entry in this journal was a bit on the angsty side. I am not despondent, no matter how barking mad I might sound. It's just, well sometimes I get in one of those moods. So maybe writing my thoughts down will help.

It's been raining all day, which always makes me think about my days at Hogwarts, although admittedly, everything reminds me of those days. Usually I keep my feelings about those days to myself, but since I have begun this journal, I am going to use it, and yes, that means I am going to talk about Hogwarts.

Of course, the Hogwarts that everyone else knows is the Hogwarts in the books. It is not exactly the place I think about in my memory, but it is very much the Hogwarts I remember: the enchanted ceilings, the welcoming feasts, the days spent in Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches, and good times with Ron and Hermione. They were the best friends a bloke could ask for.

One of the reasons I began this journal was to have a place to write down all of my memories in one place. I have them saved in another place as well, but it is always best to have a backup.

Should I begin by talking about me? Probably that would be a good place to begin, although I have a difficult time thinking what I have to say is important enough for me to write…but I will.

Most people would probably consider it an honour to be the main character of a well-known series of books, and yeah, I was chuffed when they called me and asked me if it was okay if someone wrote my story - who wouldn't be? But a lot of things happened over my seven years at Hogwarts, and while there was a lot of good that went on, there were also many bad things that happened, and many of those things made me and several other people look bad. That was one thing I was not so happy about other people finding out, but as I was told, no one is perfect, and we all make mistakes. They told me that my story could help other people. Okay, so if that is the case, I am happy I can help. I guess it's also a bit odd because I'm not a character - I'm a real person. Even when I am reading the books, and yes, I do read them, sometimes I have to wonder how I ever survived all of my adventures. But I did…I hope. The books are a testament to how good and evil people can be, as well as how good people can sometimes do evil deeds, and evil people can sometimes do good deeds.

In case anyone was wondering, she got it right…JK Rowling has kept her word, and what she has written so far is as accurate as it could possibly be. Yeah, there are some things she has embellished a bit, and then there are other things she has skimmed over, but it's all there. There were some things she just had to write differently because the truth would have been too much for even the most mature and stoic person on earth to take. I'm okay with that though. Some things are better left in one's mind.

If you saw me today, you would not recognise me as the same kid that is described in the books. I was that skinny little kid with unruly hair - Jo's descriptions of me are spot on. Sometimes I miss that little boy. Everything about me is different now, and when I look in the mirror, the person I see is only familiar because he is the person I have always seen me as being. I bet my friends would be shocked to see me, and I know someone else who would surely have a fair few comments on my new appearance. I like it - I can go anywhere I please and people do not recognise me. I've had the opportunity to see a fair few others who look similar to Harry Potter, and it must get a bit old to constantly hear, "You look just like Harry!" Yes, I am most grateful for my new look.

I was going to write more, but I'm getting tired, so I guess I had better end this for tonight, but I'll try to write again tomorrow. Unless I have any news to share, such as I got a job or met someone, I am thinking I might begin with the first book and give my thoughts…but I don't know. I don't know that others would be interested in reading about that. We'll see.

Harry

 

09 April 2007

Many people have wondered if my childhood was as horrid as it seems in the books. Yeah, it was. I mean, there wasn't any physical abuse besides the occasional cuff upside the head, and Dudley, who used me as his punching bag, but there was a definite awareness from the beginning that they thought I was a freak. They never starved me, and they allowed me to take care of my daily needs, but beyond that, it really was a depressing existence. But, as I knew nothing else, I tried making the best of it. It prepared me for what was to come, and maybe that is what Dumbledore had in mind - perhaps he knew that I needed a certain upbringing for me to realise what was important.

I miss him; I miss his guidance. He infuriated me at times, but I could always depend on him.

Today was Easter - it's not a day I care much about. The Dursleys always made a big deal about it and dressed Dudley up in the most hideous outfits to show him off to the neighbours. I spent my Easters' in the cupboard. I saw several families today, the kids all dressed up in their Sunday finest, carrying their little Easter baskets filled with eggs and candy. They looked so happy and protected. They don't know how good they have it. But there was this older couple, and the woman was crying. I wonder what was wrong? I think she was sad. I hope she's okay now.

It is quiet here, and it is quite irritating. It isn't that I want there to be constant noise, but I don't like the silence - it reminds me of a day…a night I really want to forget. After that day, my world was silent. Of course, it really wasn't, but it seemed that way. It's been almost ten years since that night…the night that it all started. Well, no, not really. It all started six years earlier. Those six years were the best ones I have ever had.

I remember when I met Ron - we talked and looked at the wizards on the cards the entire train ride to Hogwarts as we ate chocolate frogs. Ron was the first friend I ever had, and he is the best friend I'll ever have. We had our share of disagreements, but we always went back to being friends. I guess once your best friend has been put in danger and you have to save them, it makes you rather close. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him.

I think tomorrow I'll go through my things and find my photo album. I haven't looked at it in years - it's not easy seeing everyone. Sometimes I think I'll go back because being there with some people is better than being here with no people, but then I think that I'm not ready - maybe they are not ready to see me. What would I say? That once again I escaped almost completely unscathed while the others died? I know they would want me there. I know they would not blame me. Hell, they would probably want to shower me with affection, affection I crave. I want that, really I do. But not now. I know many people would not understand my thought process, but I know me, and I know what I can face and what I can't. I am nine years older than I was when I left, and I have grown much in that time, and have learned many lessons, but not even a thousand years would be enough to prepare me for facing a grieving mother.

I was going to write more, really I was, but this journal writing is not easy. They say it helps to write your feelings down, but it is rather upsetting to think about it all. But I will continue because this is good for me, that much I know. I think for now I'll go to bed and try to get a full-night's sleep.

 

10 April 2007

I did find my photo albums this morning: the one Hagrid gave me, and the one Mrs Weasley gave me for Christmas the year before I left Hogwarts. It was fun looking at the pictures of Ron, Hermione, and me when we were younger. There were several of them from first year, and we were so small. Not that I am much bigger now, but yeah, I was little first year. There was this one picture of us with Quirrel in the background -- gah, what a nightmare he was! I wonder what it would be like for someone to live on my head -- or maybe I don't want to know! But you have to admit, anyone with a man taking up residence on the back of their head would have to be a bit mad. I wonder how different he was before, like when I saw him in The Leaky Cauldron that day Hagrid and me were there. I bet he didn't know that a mad man was about to invade his person when he met me.

When I was going through the pictures of my parents, there was one with Sirius, and he was holding me. It is such a weird feeling to think that when I was a baby, I had all these people who loved me, but when I went to the Dursleys, it was as if I was all alone. Dumbledore told me that the love my parents had given me as a baby will always reside within me, and that does make me feel good, but it's not the same as having someone love you. I am sure as a baby I loved my parents and knew them by sight and voice, but the only person whom I loved who I have any real memories of, is Sirius. We never had a chance to spend a lot of time together -- summer and Christmas of 1995 were the two times I was able to see him often. He was such fun, a kid, really. Funny thing is, he wanted my dad -- he didn't want me. Oh, I know he meant no harm, and he would not have hurt me for anything, but I think he missed my dad so much that he wanted me to be him. I really wish I hadn't looked so much like him because I hated to see my godfather so sad. But it made me happy, also. It may have been that had I not looked like my dad, Sirius would not have cared as much about me. Yeah, I'm probably wrong, but I know how my life will never be the same because of deaths of friends, and if I had the chance to maybe see them again, even if it was through their child, I would grasp at that opportunity. Sirius can't have been expected to react any differently.

Oh, change of subject -- today there was this really weird article about the OotP movie, and when I read it, it made me so mad, but it ended up that it was not authentic - thank goodness - they really should verify their sources before they post such nonsense! It is sad enough that the movies are not true representations of the books. The last thing OotP needs is for the screenwriter to have bad-mouthed OotP. I tell you, I don't know why I put myself through the heartache of seeing the movies, but I'll be honest -- it is really bloody brilliant to see someone else being you.

Tonight I was watching the tele and they had this show on called Dancing With the Stars. There's this lady on there from England (I think she was married to Paul McCartney…yeah she was) and she only has one leg. The girl can dance! I don't think Moody would have ever been able to master the art of ballroom dancing with two legs, much less one.

Okay, enough for tonight. I am going to bed.

 

23 April 2007

It's been far too long since I've written, and it is showing. I was told it would help to write down my feelings, and it did help, but over the past week, everything has been getting to me and I have not been writing as I should. So, I am resolving to do this every night. It's not easy, writing all of this, but it is going to be harder if I don't - that sounds like something Hermione would tell me.

You see, no matter how hard I try to forget everything, I'm not allowed to, but I guess it is my fault. It is me who said yes to her writing my story. But back then I had no idea how personal it was going to become. It wasn't until after she started that Dumbledore died. Merlin, that was probably the hardest thing I ever faced, and I've faced a lot. It wasn't just seeing someone I looked up to being killed that was difficult, it was the shattering of my belief in the goodness of people. Yeah, now I know the truth, and I think I've gotten past it, but no one should have to learn such life-lessons in the manner I did. It wasn't fair to me, and it wasn't fair to him. I hate what life did to him.

I don't mean to sound so depressed, it's just that the new trailer came out for Order of the Phoenix and as much as I tried to stay away from watching it, I couldn't resist. I am glad what everyone will see is a representation and not the real thing. It was horrible. I don't think there has been another time I have felt so helpless, and oh how I want to die sometimes when I think that it was all my fault. Dear Merlin, it was because of me he was there. I do realise it is useless to blame myself, and yes, I do know that had he not died the way he did that night, he might have died some other way that very night, but the fact is, he died because I was stupid.

Okay, enough of that. I can't do this to myself, and I can hear him yelling at me and telling me how I need to quit being so mental about it all and that he is having a jolly good time with my dad and the others. Heh, that thought makes me smile. I hope mum is making them behave.

I guess that is about all for tonight. I will be happy when July 21st arrives so I no longer have to be careful about what I write. There is so much I want to say, but until the book has been released, I can't.

I am off to bed, but I think I might have one more look at the trailer first. Oh yes, before I go, let me say it here - whomever cast David Thewlis as Remus, is a genius - he so personifies Remus Lupin, and anytime I see the scenes between him and Dan, it always takes me back to that moment in time and I feel as though I am reliving those events again.

Well, I am off to have a shower and then it is bed for me.

 

28 April 2007

Thanks for everyone's support. I'll be the first to admit that I'm too hard on myself regarding what I've done in my life. I guess that comes from always being on the outside looking in. When I was little, I was always wondering what was so wrong with me that my aunt and uncle didn't love me. Everything I did was wrong in their eyes. So yeah, I'm thinking that has stayed with me and I am always concerned with what other people think. Every bit of what has happened has had me questioning myself, wondering if I did the right thing.

I know that I didn't kill Sirius and I know it was his choice what he did that night. We all make choices each day of our lives and none of us knows which choices will have positive results and which ones won't. Sirius died because he wasn't willing to allow his godson to get in over his head. He was keeping a promise he had made to my mum and dad. I need to accept that. It's just hard because it was ME who he came to save. It wasn't anyone else. But yeah, it seems like writing this has helped me accept what happened to Sirius. Of course tomorrow I could be right back to where I was before but I hope not.

I am quite happy when not thinking about everything that happened, and I'm sure once summer is over, things will calm down. In ways, I can't wait for that, but then I am scared because then it'll all be out there and people will inevitably begin questioning what I did or didn't do. I should not allow that to bother me, but I know I will…it's just how life is. But I do know that it wasn't someone who had time to map out what they would do, it was me who faced what I did, and I'd like to see what others would do in my place I hope no one else has to face such decisions.

I am so glad I decided to do this -- the comments have made me smile and have made me see that I should have done this a long time ago. I had to laugh out loud reading a comment about Remus -- let me tell you all that David lost weight to play him. I can't tell you how impressed I am with him. I've never met him, and he looks nothing like Remus when he is not made up, but I feel like he would be someone I could confide in and feel comfortable around. Remus's life was never easy, and he was far older than his years. I know my dad was more like Sirius, but I always felt close to Remus, close like a child would to their father. He seemed to know how to get through to me when no one else could. My dad would be proud of Remus.

I know that there is a lot of talk about the actors and how they seem too old. I can see that, but it is really not as hard for me to think of them as older because gah, you can't even begin to imagine what everyone went through. I never knew my parents, but even pictures of them when they were in their early twenties have them looking much older than what they should have. Snape is the only one who seems much much older than he should be to me, but really, I don't mind so much because I think what they were going for with Alan Rickman was emotion more than anything else, and he has done bloody brilliant with what he has been given. In a way, I feel as if I am beginning to understand Snape more because of what Alan is doing with him, and I feel good about that.

Alright, I've written quite enough, I think, so I'll wish you all a good night.

 

01 July 2007

What follows will surely be fragmented and mightn't make much sense, but I felt the need to write this down. My thoughts are most disorganized, and they will continue to be so for the next few months, I am thinking. So many emotions are resurfacing, and as much as I thought I was prepared for what was to come with the release of the final book, I am woefully unprepared. I am not wanting to face what happened again, yet I have no choice. Loss is inevitable, and I have long ago accepted that, but to me, this is all a bit much, really. It is as if I am having to relive these deaths multiple times. It is almost more than I can bear, yet I shall persevere, because well, that is what I have always done, isn't it? Erm, I think I am sounding a bit melodramatic, yeah? But it can't be helped. Perhaps in about a month's time, I can begin to return to some form of normalcy, at least I hope so. I am so very tired of this feeling of emptiness that has settled over me. I have a responsibility, haven't I? My parents died so I could continue, and because of that, I owe them a life filled with happiness and hope, not despair. I do try to be happy, really, I do, and in a few months' time, it is probable that I'll be good again, but until then, it's gonna be a bit rough, so please indulge me my morose musings.

24 June marked twelve years since Voldemort used me to regain his body. I very much dread and dislike that date. Yes, bad things had happened prior, but, nothing that had affected me in such a dramatic and personal way. Maybe it was a bit of a game before that day…I don't think I thought of it as such, but I do know that I took everything that happened up until that day, in stride, and tried not to think about it too much. Then Cedric died, and it changed everything. It is sad that when that date is talked about now, Cedric's being killed is a small end note attached only because they know if they don't, I'll be upset. Voldemort arose again that night, and that is all most people care about.

I do not mourn that day because I helped bring Voldemort back. He would have risen again with or without me, and with or without killing Cedric, so the date of his return is insignificant -- Cedric's death is not. I mourn that date because it was the end of a promising life.

When I mention to anyone that 24 June is one of the days I dread more than any other, most of them inevitably ask me if I dislike 31 October more than any other, and my answer is always the same -- how can I hate a date that proves to me how much my parents loved me? Yes, it makes me sad, as well as mad, but my mum died protecting me -- she died so I could live, not so I could hate. To be quite honest, that date is the reason for me doing everything I have done and everything I ever will do. Yes, I wish that 31 October had never happened, and I wish I had my parents here with me -- no one except me will ever know how much I have needed them. There are times that I wish they had done what Voldemort asked so they could have lived, but I think I understand why they didn't do that. I have no children of my own, but I do have friends who do, and I can't imagine what it would be like if any of their children died. It would be a loss that they and I would never recover from. I would never have wanted to cause my parents such grief, so I can't be upset with them for not being here today. This is a fairly recent belief, however. It is true that with age comes wisdom.

My parents did not want to die that night. They were young and had so much to live for, and they had a small child who they were raising. Death to them was what death to me or you is -- it must have been something that they thought happened to other people. There is no doubt that my mother and father were terrified when they realised what was about to happen. I do not care to speculate on what was going through their minds -- it is dreadful to think about.

My parents were protecting me. I can't say had I been given to Voldemort that my parents' lives would have been spared, because I doubt that -- it is not how Voldemort did business. What I do know is they gave their lives for mine…they died protecting me. I am not so sure about my dad, but I know my mum made a conscious choice -- she knew what was more than likely about to happen, and still she refused to give me up. My mother made the ultimate sacrifice. It was her choice.

Maybe some people think it should have been me who died on 31 October 1981 instead of my parents -- that I was expendable. I don't know why I lived, but I try to make my parents proud of me. I will not have my parents' deaths be for naught.

Choice is not something Voldemort gave most of his victims. Twelve years ago, I watched as a seventeen year old student was murdered in front of me. He was young and had so much life in him, and it was all taken away in less than a second, all because one person thought he was expendable. No one is expendable. Cedric Diggory was not expendable.

People tell me that with time, it gets easier, and I think I can understand that, but it is twelve years later, and Cedric is still dead…that is not going to change. I didn't even know him that well, and in fact I was a bit jealous of him because he and Cho were together. Being jealous is normal. Watching as your schoolmate is murdered, is not.

I am well aware that not everyone can live to be old, and not everyone dies peacefully in their sleep. Bad things happen, and they happen to good people, just as often as they happen to not so good people. Cedric was a good person, and for whatever reason, it was his time to go. There have been so many times when my time to go seemed imminent, but in the end, I think there has to be something I have yet to do. Why else would I still be here? So many wonderful and prolific people have met their fate far too early. It is an overbearing weight that seems to pervade me -- what am I meant to do? Why is it me who has lived?

I think I'll try to get some sleep now.

 

18 August 2007

My expectations regarding how I would feel once the final book was published have not been at all what I expected. My thoughts were that I would be relieved, and that I would be excited to write down my thoughts. Having no constraints on what I talked about has been something I have looked forward to, but now that I can freely talk about everything, it feels a bit odd really.

So much has happened, and I am here today thanks to so many unbelievable happenings. The fact that Ron, Hermione and I made it through all of this is amazing and more than a bit miraculous. We are three twenty-seven year old young adults who have so much to be thankful for.

There is so much I need to say, and it is difficult to know where to begin. My feelings are extremely mixed because I am so very happy and thankful to be alive, yet I still miss those who are not here with me, probably more today than I did when they first left. I am determined to not turn this into a memorial to those who were lost because they would be the first ones to say that I deserve to write about the happy things that have happened, and they would want me to dwell not on the sadness, but on the goodness that has come out of all of this.

There is so much I want to talk about, but before anything else is written about, I owe someone my thanks.

Severus Snape lived a lonely and unhappy life, yet he ultimately gave his life to protect me. Yeah, I know it didn't happen quite like that, but he did die because he was doing everything in his power to keep me safe.

There was a lot in his life that was bad, and he should have grown up and accepted that sometimes life is not as we want it, but he didn't. No one should apologize for his sad life and I surely won't. He had a choice and he chose his lot in life.

But what I have learned because of him is that we all have the ability and opportunity to help shape other people's lives. There were few people who were nice to Severus Snape and I wonder if anyone ever truly loved him. Maybe if just one person had shown an interest in him from a young age, he might have grown up differently. We'll never know, but I choose to think he only needed love.

He loved my mum. I don't really know what to think about that, but he must have loved her a lot to do what he did for her. He did hate me and I have no doubt about that. Hermione tells me that he couldn't have truly hated me because I was a part of my mum, but I know he did. I was the son of another man. I was the son that Severus Snape had always dreamed of having with my mum. If I was him I would have hated me too.

No matter what happened and no matter how much I disliked him, he always looked out for me, and no matter why he did it, he did it and I will forever be thankful for that. He died far too young -- he was thirty-eight, only eleven years older than I am now. He deserved to live and he deserved to tell me when and if he was ready about why he had done what he had. I deserved to know the man who had loved my mum. I knew Severus Snape, but I never knew the real man -- that, I am sure of. I am sure that is a loss I'll never recover from. He could have taught me. He always tried to teach me; even when he was at his lowest point he tried teaching me.

I hated him so much for what he had done to Dumbledore and I wanted so badly to see him killed for what he had done. But I have to say this -- don't ever wish to see anyone killed -- it is not something that anyone needs to be witness to. Just as I was born into this world to make a difference, so was he, and in the span of a few seconds, his life was taken from him for no good reason. Had he died protecting me or if he was defending someone, then perhaps it would have been a meaningful death. As it was? He died because Voldemort needed to claim the Wand…and as we know now, Severus Snape had not even had full possession of it in the first place -- his death was senseless and it makes me so mad, even almost ten years later. Many people died heroically in that battle, and Severus was one of those people. I just wish he could have died as he had wanted to die, fighting for what he believed in. I hate it that his life was taken from him without giving him a chance to fight back. He was a proud man who never wanted anyone to know just how good he really was.

I know just how good of a man he was. He was flawed, yes. We all are. But he was a good man. Life was not good to him and he was not good to it. He made mistakes and he made bad decisions. Yes, ultimately he died because of his bad decisions, but that does not mean he was a bad person, does it?

I am quite sure I will be writing more about this in future because it is important to me, probably more important than just about anything else.

I just need to say it here: Thank you, Professor Snape. Thank you for protecting a young and foolish boy who didn't deserve it. Thank you for loving my mum enough to make sure I did not get myself in a situation I could not get myself out of. Thank you for knowing that I needed you to teach me even when I didn't think you were doing so. Thank you for the sword and thank you for Ron. You led him back to me. Thank you most of all for the memories you allowed me to see -- you must know how important they are to me. They changed everything. I am ashamed that had I never seen those memories that I would still hate you and not know just how important you were in my life. I realise you did not want others to know how much you cared, but surely you did not rather people hated you instead, or did you? You probably did because you would rather be alone rather than risk being hurt like my mother hurt you. But you hurt her too, professor.

It is not always good when you try to be something you aren't. You were never Death Eater material but you wanted to be. You wanted something that was never yours. Had you realised that, then perhaps you and my mum would have got together…but we'll never know. I can only hope that I have learned from what happened to you.

I am sorry for what happened to you, but I am not sorry you taught me what it is to love. So much of what happened had to do with love, didn't it? Your love was just as important as my mum's love was. That isn't anything to scoff at, Professor.

To love is to be human. I will never forget that.

Thank you, Professor Snape.

Your student forever,

Harry Potter

 

09 January 2008

So today is 09 January -- it would've been Snape's forty-eighth birthday. Not so long ago, forty-eight was ancient in my mind but, now that I am twenty-seven, it doesn't seem as old as it did then. Earlier this year a few of us got together in Hogsmeade to mark ten years since we left Hogwarts. Neville, Seamus, Dean, Ron, Hermione and me, we all met up and had a pint or two and Dean made a toast to Snape. Bill came around later that night and said he and Fleur had been to see his grave. Ron and Seamus then wanted us to go see it, but I couldn't. I've been there a fair few times and, each time, it makes me sick to my stomach. Seeing his grave just reinforces the fact that that generation of Hogwarts, which probably numbered 40 when they began, is now down to erm…almost a fifth of what they began with. I can't imagine losing Ron or Hermione…or even Draco. As much as I dislike him, if anything were to happen to him, I'd regret his loss. Malfoy and me went through a lot, and I even saved his sorry arse that night. Okay so I shouldn't have said that. Hermione is standing over my shoulder as I am writing this, glaring at me.

So I am supposed to say something profound to remember Snape…it's an idea that Ginny thought up, said I should do this each year on his birthday. I thought she was mad for suggesting it, but I have to say it's not been so bad, although, Ron did laugh at me earlier when Ginny asked if I had written this yet. I guess if Ron were writing this he might say something like: "Snape, he was erm…well he was a right loyal git to the end. Okay done."

Okay, here goes: Just as he was alone during his life, he was alone in death. No one deserves to die as he did, but I doubt Snape would have wanted a lot of people witnessing his last breath, so maybe it was best. It's hard for me to believe that, though. He did so much for us and, even if he brought all that happened to him on himself, he didn't deserve what he got. But, that is what he got and, for what it's worth, maybe in dying, he found some peace. I hope so. Okay, I think that's it.

Is this okay, Hermione? Does it meet with your approval? Okay, she likes it. Well, that is about all I have to say. The baby is crying, and Ginny is trying to get the other two dressed so she and Hermione can take them to her mum's before they go shopping, so I better go get the baby and change his nappy before Ron and I leave; we're going to see McGonagall. She invited us for tea, so we're going.

Thank you, Snape. None of this would be possible if it hadn't been for you.

Your former student,

Harry James Potter


End file.
